


there are worse things i could do

by lyssy



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bottom Lance (Voltron), M/M, Pining, Porn with Feelings, Top Keith (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 05:45:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14710242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyssy/pseuds/lyssy
Summary: His chest went tight when he recalled Keith's face. What did it have to mean? They'd never been lovers; that much was clear.When Lance goes out to buy himself a gift for his own pleasure, it comes with a little emotional baggage. Only just as he thinks he can manage it, Keith throws himself into the mix, and Lance realizes he must come to terms with buried feelings.





	there are worse things i could do

In a way, it had started out as an itch to scratch.

Space, Lance realized, was a vast place, where one could get lonely very easily. And after a few months of living in a high-tech, alien castleship, things could slowly lose their luster, too. But it hadn't been just that. Things were changing amongst the team. New rebels, new recruits, and no room for Lance to participate in any of it sometimes. He wasn't a techhead, not an engineer, a magical princess, or a combat-ready captain with a cybernetic arm. And though he wished he could have used all that as an excuse, there were definitely other factors that played a part in why he had been spending most of his free time alone in his room masturbating.

Not that it was bad. There were worse things he could do than end his day pumping himself full on his own fingers. Or begin them, too, when he hadn't found jerking off fulfilling enough as of late. What could he say? He'd rather make his toes curl in the sheets than pretend to care about how Coran kept his mustache so pristine and shapely. Yes, time well spent.

So, naturally, that was how he ended up here, in an alien sex shop. Because once an itch was scratched, even just a little bit, there would start a craving for more. When just a little wouldn't be enough.

"Aren't you Lance?" the Unilu shopgirl asked, reeling him from his thoughts. "From the coalition shows?"

Lance gaped behind his simple black shades. He really should have come up with a more clever disguise. "How'd you know?" he cleared his throat with a guttural cough. "I mean...no."

Coming here had been a terrible idea. If three fingers hadn't been enough for him to get off on, he could have been rebellious enough to add a fourth and save himself the embarrassment of buying a dildo. Admittedly, he felt more like a kid lost in a department store than a genuine customer.

"I have seen, like, all of your shows," said the shopgirl. She ripped a piece of paper from a notepad beside the cash register, grabbed a pen, and held it out with a hopeful smile. "You mind?"

Lance tipped his shades down the bridge of his nose and checked if the coast was clear. With a sigh, he removed the glasses and tucked them away into his shoulder bag. "Sure," he said and gave the scrap paper a quick autograph before passing it back. "Just, please, don't tell anyone you saw me here."

With a dubious look, the shopgirl rested a hand on her hip. "What, you're embarrassed to be in a sex shop?"

"I'd just prefer it if the people I live with didn't know what I was doing with my spare time."

"Oh. Yeah, got it," the shopgirl nodded, quietly coming around the counter. She rested all four hands on her hips and furrowed a pink brow. "So, what can I help the Loverboy with?"

Lance forced a laugh at the sinister edge her voice took, his anxious gaze turning to glance about the store. Against his expectations, the shop had a classier feel to it, with its dusk-dark interior and off-setting spotlights. Every which way he looked, there was some sort of kinky object, poster, magazine. The sight of it all, products with nude aliens posed so open and intimate, brought a blush to his cheeks.

"You'll get used to it," the shopgirl laughed, which only intensified the heat in Lance's face.

"I'm just...l'm looking for a toy," Lance said, his voice cracking on the final word.

"You're gonna have to be more specific than that," the shopgirl gave his arm a friendly pat and rotated on her heel. "But, sure, follow me. We keep our toys in the back."

Lance nodded and walked after her, past the shelves of merchandise and toward the back, where the shop branched off into a vestibule of a room. The lighting there was bleaker, with the exception of hundreds of tiny stages protruding from each wall. Each stage, Lance realized, had their own spotlight. And dildo. He nearly barked out an incredulous laugh.

"I believe these are the toys you're referring to?" the shopgirl asked, indicating to the very wall Lance was fixated on.

Lance only nodded, leaving his embarrassment behind for a face of awe as he approached the wall. "Holy cow. There must be hundreds!"

"You assume correctly," said the shopgirl, impressed as if it were her own work. She stood beside Lance, eyeing the array. "Say hello to every known—and discovered penis of the universe."

"Hello, penises." Lance recited, still bug-eyed. He could barely comprehend most of what he was looking at. There were shapes, sizes, and colors of all kinds. And though a part of him wanted to entertain the idea of getting experimental, he had to remember what he came for.

As he turned to make a request, suddenly, the shopgirl was extending a very large, very fiendish looking dildo out to him. He assumed that's what the thing was. It was at least bigger than Lance's forearm, with a pink shaft covered in small humps and a threatening maw of a cockhead.

"I think you're a G'lorp type of guy," she said.

Lance staggered back with a shriek. "You thought wrong!"

"No, it's easier than it looks," the shopgirl bargained. The toy at hand, disgustingly, wriggled in response to her squeezing it, making Lance yelp as an egg-shaped gelatin popped out of its head.

A shudder traveled throughout Lance's entire body. Come to think about it, that display was enough of an experiment to keep him away from this store for a good while.

Catching on to his wince, the shopgirl set the G'lorp model back on its respective stage with a look bordering sheepish. "Sorry," she said, pretending to pat her skirt of dust before looking back up at the displays. "Our ovipositors are some of our bestsellers. Were you looking for something specific?"

"Yeah," Lance confirmed with a slow, feeble nod. "Maybe something closer to, I don't know, an Earthling's junk?"

"We don't carry Earthling."

"No?"

"No," the shopgirl shook her head. "Since we've only been familiar with them as prisoners before Voltron, manufacturers aren't really aware of how they look."

Lance sighed. What a shame. Here he was, looking at all kinds of displays that could tear him a new one, and none that could fit his liking.

"But we do have something that should be similar," the shopgirl suggested, recapturing Lance's attention as she pointed above their heads. "One that might fit your liking."

She wasn't wrong. Within a tiptoe's reach, the shopgirl plucked a toy from its stage. It looked very human-like, to Lance's surprise. As he peered closer, however, it appeared to have a bigger, thicker girth and bulbous base he didn't understand what was for. Underneath the cockhead were three ridges that tapered off into smaller ones going down the length of the underside. Lance licked his lips unconsciously.

The shopgirl extended it out to him. "Here."

Lance took the toy with a feeble smile, his growing interest keeping him keen and warm on the idea of purchasing it. "What kind is it?"

"It's a Galra hybrid."

_Oh, quiznak._ And just like that, the bubble of Lance's fantasy bursted, making him tear his gaze from the toy and, for the first time, lock gazes with the shopgirl. His eyes narrowed to slits. "Hybrid of what?"

With a smug look on her face, the shopgirl waved a hand out. "Fan demand," she said. "Galrans, as you know, come in all shapes and sizes."

"So who's piece am I holding?" Lance asked, keeping the suspicion evident in his voice as his curiosities began answering before she could.

Galran. More of Lance's size. More of Earthling size. As he brought the toy closer, he took notice of the purple hue overlaying the cockhead, descending into a warm, beige color.

"Presumably," the shopgirl shrugged, her smirk broadening. "The former Red Paladin's."

Lance's stomach went wire tight. He felt the urge to scream, to run out of the shop and never look back. How ironic could it be that, even with Keith gone, he managed to find Lance even in this corner of the universe? Or, Lance found him, presumably. He'd spent practically the entire month burying his feelings of recent events that'd taken place. It made him hurt all over as he thought about how much he'd been trying to escape the thought of his former teammate, and how simply standing here would reopen his old wound before he so much as had the chance to lick it.

After a deep breath, Lance sighed and looked up. "How much?"

 

***

 

After leaving the space mall, guilt lingered over Lance like a raincloud for the remainder of his day. As soon as he had gotten back, he'd disposed his shopping bag to a corner of the bedroom, self-reproach restraining him from going near his spiffy new dildo. He'd actually purchased the thing, and though he loathed himself for it, he had to sweep away the idea that this could have anything to relate with Keith. Because it didn't. It couldn't.

Even if the toy was made to be a supposed replica of Keith's junk.

_Yep, no correlation_ , Lance thought to himself, idly twiddling his thumbs while lying in his bunk bed. For a while, he sulked to himself, never daring to sneak a peek at the _Forever 2000_ bag in the corner. The shopgirl had been kind enough to give him a bag like so, just to aide him in concealing his dirty little secret. With a chiding _tsk,_ he dragged his melodramatic butt out of bed and to the bathroom.

It took a half hour shower later, but eventually, Lance did relax, albeit muttering under his breath as he padded back into his room to retrieve his shopping bag. He fished out his new bottle of lubricant and ditched the rest of the bag on the floor, hesitant to play with the toy just yet as he relaxed back against the comforter. The sheets felt smooth and cool underneath his skin, much unlike the rest of him, which was hot and covered in anticipatory goosebumps. He dropped the towel around his body and let it crumple underneath his hips as he settled back more comfortably.

_Just the fingers,_ Lance thought to himself as he popped the cap of the bottle, dribbling a generous amount of lube over his fingertips. The shower had been enough to shake his nerves loose in the meantime, get him flushed as his resolve to be embarrassed withered away.

So Lance shut his eyes, parted his thighs, and went straight to teasing his rim, sighing. He felt warm and molten immediately, going heavy-lidded as his prior tension eroded with his exploring fingers. With his free hand, Lance rubbed a palm over his naked belly, up over his ribs, and gasped as he sank a finger into himself. He eagerly took it to the second knuckle faster than typical, turning his cheek against his pillow with a shuddering exhale.

Oftentimes, he wondered how sex would really be with someone else. Would they care to pay the kind of diligent attention Lance paid to himself? If he was able to make himself feel so good alone, how would someone else do it? Or, as his mind never ceased to wander, how would Keith?

Lance gritted his teeth and relented a tiny, shivering moan. He punished himself by adding second digit.

How could he blame the universe for bringing Keith to mind when he did that all himself? He couldn't help it. Not today, and certainly not the other days he'd closed his eyes and imagined his former teammate, what he might look like while fingering Lance open.

Lance crooked his fingers then, clumsily circling the two in and curling forward like the curl of his toes against the bedspread. He relented a whimper, mouth falling agape as he kept his eyes squeezed shut, cheeks running hot. His chest went tight as he recalled Keith's face, the last time they'd been face-to-face, and not in some stupid holographic meeting.

What did it have to mean? They'd never been lovers; that much was clear. It felt as if someone were wringing the air out of him as the memory of their last encounter insisted itself into Lance's mind.

 

***

 

_One month ago,_ Kogos Moon Gala.

 

The gala held on Kogos Moon was hosted in a beautiful ballroom. Attendance was massive that night, festive with the chaos of numerous aliens filling the palace in celebration of the growing coalition. Some from Olkarion, Puig, Pyrrhux, and elsewhere. Kogos had just become Voltron's newest asset. Maybe even their best one.

Sleek with its marble floors, heavy crystal chandeliers threw off prisms of light, washing the blue palace walls with a bright, aquatic-like iridescence. Lance could do nothing but bask in the beauty of it all. From crawling through the greasy chambers of foreign cargo ships, he now stood in a ballroom of luxury, snacking on finger-foods, making conversation with royals. What could he say? He did not miss the former invisibility of an Earthling's life.

From a throng of aliens, a slender Pyrrhuxian woman pushed through. She had ruby red skin, her hair much the same color, shaped like an arrow and short. Lance thought she resembled a cardinal. "Lance, daaahling," she extended her arms as though they were familiar. They weren't. "You simply _must_ tell me where on Pyrrhux you got that suit! It's to die for!"

Actually, the current war was to die for. Literally. But Lance was never one to shy from flaunting his material things.

He flashed a coy little grin, twirling on his loafers to show off his all-ivory suit. "This old thing?" Lance did a meek flutter of his lashes and gave a peek of his blazer's royal blue lining. "Myself, actually. And my friend, Coran. They don't call me The Tailor for nothin'!"

The Pyrrhuxian woman canted her head. "People call you that?"

Quiznak, right. He went by the Loverboy pseudonym to everyone else in the universe. What a hoot.

To his long tailcoat, someone gave a tug, pulling his attention. Down below, a small Puig child blinked big brown peepers up at him. "'Ance."

Lance glanced back at the Pyrrhuxian woman. "Oh, you must excuse me," he pardoned himself, that dumb posh accent rubbing off on him. He returned his attention to the child and fell into a crouch. "Hi there! Is your mom around?"

The child only grinned, a little _hee_ noise leaving him. "You fly the Red Lion!"

"Yes, I do," Lance nodded, his heart positively melting for his younger fan. He stood up again, taking the child's hand and guiding him away from the center of the ballroom. "C'mon. I know where all the other kids are staying."

At one of the further ends of the ballroom, Lance guided the Puig child back near the snack tables, where all the other children attending the party played around. To his arrival, a group of kids stopped their game of tag to freeze and look at him. All at once, they cried his name, and Lance full on gawked.

Unexpected as it was, universal stardom was still a thing for him to get used to. It was so new, he almost didn't know how to react as a number of kids rushed up to him. One child smacking on a grape sandwich even begged to be picked up, which he proceeded to do.

The truth of his heroism was a wonderful distraction to get his mind away from the presence of war. And as they rambled on with their questions and talk of the coalition shows, Lance's gaze wandered toward the further end of the ballroom, up the entry stairs and landing, where his first favorite distraction entered the room. Speak of the devil.

"I'll be," Lance murmured as the Blade of Marmora themselves entered the ball.

They really showed. Dressed in sharp suits, too. They were really eager to please Kogos as well, it appeared. Because even if the pearly appearance of their castle insisted otherwise, they were a region of some of the galaxy's fiercest warriors. They were one of the luckies who hadn't yet succumbed to the tyranny of Zarkon's reign.

Amongst the crowd of Galran rebels, Lance spotted Keith easily amongst the bulkier soldiers. If he were in a Saturday morning cartoon, Lance's bow tie would spin at the sheer excitement of seeing him.

What right did Keith have, going around looking so handsome? Lance swore his heart jumped to recognize he was even wearing the suit they'd specifically talked about over one of their more recent comm calls. Keith was wearing a short maroon blazer, much resembling the leather jacket he always wore, with matching pants. His undershirt was a lighter red, like dried berries, and the dark tie on top of that—Lance swore—made the entire ensemble swoon-worthy.

As the Blade descended the stairs, Keith met his gaze, gave a shy wave, and proceeded to weave through the rest of the crowd taking up the dance floor.

Lance let down the alien child in his arms before slowly walking to meet Keith halfway. Ever-ready, a broad smile overtook his face. "Look at you!" he exclaimed, holding his hands to his chest and looking skyward with mock dreaminess. "I've created a masterpiece."

"Excuse me?" Keith asked, but he wore a smirk anyway. "I put this together myself."

Lance dropped his hands and scoffed. "Um. With my help?"

Keith rolled his eyes. "With your help," he bit his bottom lip before his eyes fell back on Lance again, widening a fraction. His gaze rose to meet Lance's as he shook his head slowly. "You look...great, really."

"Thank you," Lance said, attempting to ignore the blush he knew was suffusing his face.

They'd been at this for a while now. The playful flirting, the too friendly banter, the late-night phone calls that had become like a thrilling secret of theirs. In wake of Keith's leaving Voltron, Lance could easily admit to himself that the plaguing realization of loneliness afterwards was what really drove them closer together.

And tonight, all of that would come to the final nudge they needed. Lance was sure of it. He'd been practically fizzing with happiness all evening just thinking about how their encounter would go down. It would be a story to share for a lifetime. Keith had to confess tonight. What other opportunity to, if not this perfect night?

"You wanna get some air?" Lance asked, rocking on his tiptoes.

"Yeah," Keith agreed quickly. Too quickly.

Lance pinched his lips together, careful not to let the deviousness show on his face as they breezed past the crowd of the gala and up the stairs on the opposing side. Away from the commotion of party, they found a private terrace that overlooked the wonderful landscape of Kogos' palace. The stars in the sky, big and bright, rained a romantic type of moonlight on the balcony's platform.

"So," Keith said from behind, starting Lance out of his thoughts. "Where's Lotor?"

Hm. A buzzkill for small talk, but everyone had to start somewhere, right?

"I think with Allura," Lance said, taking a seat on the stone bench by the ledge. He gave the empty space beside him a pat, and Keith followed suit. "I think he's just kissing up to the Kogos empress. You know, the usual."

"I guess he has no choice," Keith gave an answering sigh as he sat beside Lance. "He's Zarkon's son, after all. I can't imagine they'd welcome him with open arms. Or the Blade, either, for that matter."

"Oh, c'mon. The Blade's been around for, like, hundreds of years. They've had to have made _some_ allies along the way!"

"They have," Keith said. "Some, exactly."

Lance blew air from his mouth, the rise of the bench giving him enough leverage to swing his ankles freely. "You gotta admit," he bumped shoulders with Keith, saving their conversation with a smile. "Seeing Kolivan in a suit is kinda amusing."

Keith broke into a small laugh, stirring warmth deep in Lance's chest. "You wouldn't believe the fight it was to convince the entire team to dress formally."

"I can hardly believe you were convinced!" Lance said, eyebrows shot up. "Like, look at you. A button-up, a tie," he indicated to Keith's footwear. "Penny loafers! Who are you?"

"Okay, okay, I get it! I'm— Yeah, okay, it was a fight for me too, but..."

"But..?"

"But I," Keith looked up, pausing as if he could find a plausible answer written in the sky. His gaze turned on Lance slowly before the twitch of his mouth tilted into the loveliest smile. "I don't know. I wanted to. For you."

Lance's breath caught in his chest, a funny kind of ballooning. Admittedly, his feelings for Keith had been manageable when he was only a room away, and when the truth of his own emotions were still somewhat of a mystery to himself. But things had changed between them. Lance had, undeniably, fallen head over heels for Keith. He had grown to love him. For his sturdiness, for his backbone, for the way he had refused to break down in the face of war. And how even then, he'd offered Lance the most compassion and care. So much, that his sudden departure from Voltron had left a dent in Lance's heart, and it hadn't quite repaired itself ever since.

Well, no more.

Lance looked into his eyes. "You didn't have to wear a suit for me to appreciate you being here, Keith." All at once, he felt his shyness deserting him.

"No?"

"No," Lance said. His smile turned kittenish as he rotated his body to face Keith. "You just had to show. And you did. Even when you thought that Kogos was against you being here."

"Well—"

"I mean," Lance waved a hand, his confidence carrying him on. "Look at what we've done. Look at how far we've come! It was like it was only yesterday that we were getting thrown on our butts by training bots. Now, look at us," he puffed his chest out. "You, out there, kicking butt with the Marmorans. Me, traveling the universe and recruiting rebels."

Keith's smile waned just the slightest. "Yeah," he agreed, a deflated air to the word. "Lots of...distance."

"It is," Lance shrugged. "But we get things done anyway, right?"

Keith said nothing to challenge that and nodded slowly. "A little different than each other, yeah."

Lance blinked. "You mean?"

"I mean," Keith shook his head a little and glanced off. "We're lucky enough that we even got to meet here, for once in a few months, before we have to go our separate ways again."

"Well, yeah," Lance said, his brows wrinkling. He wasn't sure he liked where this conversation was going. "War requires a little sacrifice."

Keith's gaze went to his knees. "I guess it does."

Lance felt the air going out of the evening quickly. He scooted closer, the beat of his heart rabbity quick. "You're here now, aren't you? We still have tonight."

Because Keith had to know. He had to know how to embrace these little moments. They could cherish their evening tonight, and everything would be okay. War or not.

Keith turned very suddenly and almost flinched, coming up nose-to-nose with Lance as they sat there on the bench. Lance's cheeks went embarrassingly bright and red, his stomach turning as the fraction of space between them held tight.

Keith's gaze was unwavering. "I think I..."

"Yes..?" Lance asked, leaning in.

"Lance," Keith's breath fanned over his lips, making his insides go lava hot. He looked up suddenly, taking a short lock of Lance's hair gently between his fingers before flatly saying. "You have grape sauce in your hair."

After a blinking moment of paralyzed uncertainty, Lance jolted out of Keith's personal space with a yelp. "Oh, my gosh!" A hand flew to his hair self-consciously. His fingers came back blue and sticky from where he touched.

"Those Puig kids must've been messy eaters," Keith said, staring off now and trying for a laugh. It sounded completely hollow.

No, no, no.

_He was going to kiss me._

Lance felt a lump in his throat as he sat back. He gave a little hiccup, horrified at himself as he watched Keith pretend to care about the hedges beyond the palace. He may have been sitting there beside him, but Keith's presence suddenly felt further than ever now.

What had he just done? Lance wished he could unsay everything.

There was such a profound silence filling the air that it made Lance afraid to speak, to ask.

When Keith stood, his gaze over the lawn never waned as he cleared his throat and nodded back at the way they'd come in. "We should," his eyes flicked toward Lance. "We should probably get back to the others."

Lance was quiet for one long, expectant moment before feigning a cough. His eyes pricked with telltale tears, and he blinked to keep them at bay. "Oh," he said, quiet and small. "No, I— I think I'll just chill here a bit."

"Are you sure?" Keith asked.

"Yes, I'm _fine._ "

Wavering there a second more, Keith nodded. "Okay," he said. "I'll see you out there."

After Keith took his leave, Lance released the long, shaking breath he kept. He felt as though he'd been cracked open with a giant mallet. His brain, practically melting through his ears with how hot his face felt, was blasting off with a million different thoughts.

Keith had looked so sure. Lance was so sure. He was going to be kissed. Had he misread the signs? Suddenly being denied of that—what had felt so much like a promise, brought on a fierce, unwarning type of hurt unto Lance.

_I'm so stupid,_ he thought and brought his arms around himself, both parts embarrassed and ashamed.

The terrace, awash and glittery in the starlight, felt nothing but deceptive now. Their twinkling felt taunting, like laughter. And as the party raged on in the Kogos ballroom behind him, Lance curled in on himself slowly, the pace of his heartbeat out of rhythm, unsteady.

Being a wishful thinker had never left him feeling so foolishly.

 

***

 

In the privacy of his own room, Lance relented a high-pitched cry, the thrust of his fingers pumping in and out of himself hurried and feverish. Over his belly, his cock twitched, swollen, red and dribbling come. He could hardly take the stimulation on top of his betraying imagination, but the first orgasm never took long. Especially with his working fingers, or with Keith in his mind's eye. Keith, with his strong arms, his dark eyes, or on the rare occasions, his contagiously sharp smirk. How great it might be if these were his fingers, or if it were his body looming over Lance, pushing him into the mattress, fucking him silly. The thought alone had Lance mewling. His stomach hollowed with each long, ragged breath he took.

With his free hand, Lance dug his fingers into the pillow behind his head, braced his heels against the mattress and rocked against his hand, back on the girth of his fingers. In an instant after, he let himself go and came with a soft sob of Keith's name, spurting warmth down the line of his belly in rivulets. He wilted against the mattress afterwards, the rise and fall of his chest heavy in the aftershock of orgasm. For the lasting moment, it was so much. Too much, and yet, not nearly enough for a good fix. There was still that itch.

Turning his cheek against his pillow, Lance caught sight of the yellow shopping bag on the floor through his bleary vision. He bit his lip.

He needed that damn toy.

Slowly, he slipped his lube-slick fingers out of himself, sitting up enough to wrench the bag off from the floor and grab his dildo. When he took it out, it startled him for a mere moment, for the fact of its existence. That he'd really done that. Gone out and bought an actual toy to fuck himself on. Funnily enough, the wickedness of the prospect was what got his blood pumping again.

So Lance brushed the bag off the bed and brought his knees up, his bones still trembling clumsily as he took the bottle of lube he'd left nearly forgotten on his bed. He proceeded to coat the dildo very generously, second-guessing himself over its size. After all, it would be a newer, bigger transition in comparison to his own fingers.

He breathed in and out and rested back against the pillows, letting his mind go under by degrees. Lance spread his legs again and brought two fingers to his hole, the muscle twitching involuntarily against his fingertips. His ass was still sensitive, would be for a long while, but he brought the tip of the dildo to his entrance anyway, eager for the thick of it. He pushed it in slowly, groaning out before taking both hands afterwards and wrapping them around the toy.

"Uh," Lance bit down on his lip again, worrying it between his teeth to stifle another cry. As he insisted the dildo inside himself, he felt tears prick his eyes. It was almost too much for a second, the pain overbearing the pleasure part of the experience. He barely had the head of the cock in before he was choking out Keith's name unconsciously.

Lance squeezed his eyes shut, a ruddy red blush spreading like a mask over his face. Why? He hated this. He hated everything about what he was doing. By chance, the right kind of toy for him just had to be modeled after Keith, and—fuck, he loved it, too.

He fumbled with the dildo, working it into himself deeper, tear tracks dribbling over his flushed cheeks. Oh, he could definitely feel the definition of model's ridges, the way they tickled treacherously inside himself. But he bore down, the overstimulation making his cock chub over his belly as he thrusted the dildo shallowly inside himself and whimpered out again. _"Keith."_

His face. His eyes. His smile. And Keith had no idea, no clue as to how much Lance appreciated all of it, all of him. Everything about Keith had been his undoing.

He barely had half of the dildo nestled inside himself before he was dripping precome over navel again, heat kindling low in his belly. Lance brought a hand over his cock and stroked himself frantically, quelling sobs and clenching down on the girth of the dildo.

When suddenly, a loud, metallic knock reverberated throughout the room. Lance jumped and, just as quickly, froze like a deer in the headlights.

"You in there, Lance?" Hunk's voice asked on the other side.

Paralyzed with fear, Lance blinked, his heart hammering against the cage of his ribs as he worried for a split second that maybe he'd forgotten to lock the doors. "I'm fine! I'm fine, just—just a little sick!" He called out, faking a cough and swearing an oath as he scrambled to ease the toy out of himself.

For the building pleasure earlier, all he felt now was hot with shame for being plucked out of his steamy fantasies. And by the voice of his best friend, too. Lance pulled the covers of his bed over his naked self and smacked a hand over his face.

Hunk, ever oblivious, just made a noise of concern. "Sorry to hear that, buddy, but Shiro asked me to come get you."

Lance raised his face from his hand and furrowed a brow in confusion. "What for?"

 

***

 

After being disrupted in the middle of his masturbation session, Lance was led by Hunk to the control room. With feeble time, he'd had to hide the evidence of his toy in his room, get dressed, and follow Hunk to an apparent meeting Shiro had decided tonight—of all nights—to assemble. Let it be known, walking promptly after having an alien dildo shoved up one's ass was not a pleasant experience. He swore his ass cheeks were chafing with every step. It was pain on a completely different degree.

As he and Hunk blew into the control room, Lance grumbled out to no one in particular. "I don't see why this couldn't have waited until tomorrow."

"Because we're running on a tight schedule," an answering voice said, raspy and stern and making Lance's blood go ice instantly.

"Keith!" Lance gawked. His eyes went round as dinner saucers as they landed upon his former teammate, who stood accompanied by his bigger, bulkier captain on the further end of the room. "Kolivan. What brings you here."

Lance could have feigned interest all he wanted to. Keith's sudden presence was as welcome as a slap in the face, especially coming from where he'd just come from. Literally.

"Had you been here on time, you'd know," Pidge chimed in smartly from where she sat, perched on the arm of her station's chair. She tilted her head. "What took you so long?"

_Nosy._ Barely managing to gulp down a snippy retort, Lance merely shot her an indignant scowl before flicking his gaze toward Shiro instead. "You called for me?"

Shiro cleared his throat. "Hunk said you might be carrying extra scaultrite lenses. Something about you recreating them for video game purposes?" His brow raised, the most significant budge from the perpetual grimace his face was usually set in nowadays.

Quiznak, that reminded Lance. He had kept extra plates of scaultrite, for recreational purposes exactly. Although Pidge had been the brains behind the act and idea, they'd converted the lenses into mini powerhouses for their gameflux station. With those plates, their uses for any electronic system in the future could be boundless. So, Lance had kept them.

"I do," Lance answered finally.

"We need it," Keith said, and despite Lance's effort to look otherwise, he still felt excruciatingly frazzled at the sight of him. "Kolivan needs it."

"It's been months since I've last seen them," Lance forced a small laugh, glancing at everyone in turn with a nervous smile. "My room's practically a black hole. They could be lost in space now, for all I know."

"They better not be," Kolivan said bitingly, drawing all eyes. He stood as rigid as a statue beside Keith, his expression tight.

"Kolivan," Allura held a hand out as if to diffuse his impatience. She focused her attention on Lance from where she stood at the center post, her own gaze bordering anxious. "What Kolivan means is, he needs them. It's critical that we get those lenses."

"Oh," Lance's gaze flicked between both Allura and Kolivan, brows high. "Okay, I... I'll find them. I promise, I just— I'll need to look for them."

"Get them," Kolivan bowed his head, remembering the magic word a tick later. "Please."

Lance needed no further explanation. He wasn't about to ask questions, either. He rotated on his heel. "Perfect, I'll just—"

"I'll go with you," Keith cut in, making Lance freeze in step.

That spelled horrible in every possible way. The last thing he needed was to be distracted from searching for a crucial weapon by someone who affected his heart like one.

"I can go by myself," Lance muttered as Keith caught up beside him.

"It'd be more efficient if I checked with you," Keith said.

After they evacuated the bridge, Lance made sure to maintain a brisk pace, anything to evade casual conversation with Keith, if he was just happening to look for one tonight. Would that, too, be considered as wishful thinking? Regardless, the effort must have worked, because Keith wasn't saying anything.

In fact, they were able to hold up a mutual silence until they neared the bedroom quarters.

"Why are you walking like that?" Keith asked suddenly.

"Like what?"

As if demonstrating, Keith shifted foot-to-foot very awkwardly and rigidly, and Lance's cheeks burned red with embarrassment. He felt so ashamed at the sight of it, he attempted to control the guilty limp in his step, against the insisting pain in his rear.

"Are you in pain?" Keith asked.

"No," Lance lied.

"Did you hit something?"

"No!"

"Then what—"

"Ugh, quiznak!" Lance threw his arms and stopped just short of his bedroom. "Why do you even care?"

Keith's gaze flickered to the side unwittingly before meeting Lance's again. "I'm just trying to make conversation."

"Well, don't," Lance said, a little too prickly. He couldn't help it. Keith's ignorance only triggered an eruption of the anger he'd been keeping so well corked the past month. "I'm not a baby. I can take care of myself."

"I never said you were," Keith said, his own irritation mounting. "And what's wrong with me being concerned? You don't want me caring about you all of a sudden?"

Lance shivered slightly, his lips pressing in a taut line. Keith's question felt like an arrow reaming him open, exposing the ugly inconvenience of his heart. He just had to have phrased himself that way.

Lance resorted to a bitter _ha_ of a laugh. "I think I've done pretty well so far! After all, ignorance _is_ bliss, right? You'd know that better than anyone."

Keith shifted, his body angling toward Lance. The distance between them suddenly felt too close for comfort. "Are you making fun of me?"

"Oh, I'd never make fun of you, Keith," Lance said with an exaggeratedly sweet voice. "You're so intelligent." But Keith was too serious, too calm, to mock. Lance was simply defending his own heart with the weapon of humor.

As a silence reigned the air between them, Lance held his breath and waited for a reaction. Keith said nothing, merely narrowing his eyes. _Good,_ Lance thought.

"You wait here," Lance said finally, his own expression tight as he turned to enter his room. "I'll go look for it myself."

The atmosphere may have been cold, but Lance's anger kept him warm as he meandered through his bedroom, a knot in his stomach. At the far wall, he activated a palm reader and entered the space of his walk-in closet, mortified with his near failure to save face in front of Keith.

How could he blame himself? It wasn't him who'd been acting the phony, like their radio silence in the past month wasn't the obvious elephant in the room. And it wasn't like Lance was mad at Keith because he didn't reciprocate the same feelings as he. It was the fact that he could, and instead chose not to. For whatever moronic reason, Lance didn't know. But he'd rather eat glass than ask why they weren't together, when it'd been so obvious then that they should be.

Not that it should matter anyway. Lance would find those lenses and bring them back to Kolivan, pasted-on smile or not. And then he and Keith would go their separate ways again.

As he crouched and carded through the rising pile of junk he'd thrown in his closet, Lance heard the tap of footsteps behind him, and looked over his shoulder. Against his say so, Keith was in his room, gauging his surroundings like some lost dog. Lance rolled his eyes and returned to his junk pile, moving around articles of clothing, trinkets and knick-knacks he'd collected over the past few months. At last, he spotted it. The familiar gleam of scaultrite lenses—all neatly stacked in an organized rack.

Lance grinned to himself and hoisted the rack into his arms before announcing. "I found—!"

_"What the fuck!"_ Keith's voice pierced the air, loud and perturbed enough to send Lance running.

What he saw next nearly made him crap out his heart.

The drawers underneath Lance's bunk bed sat open next to where Keith stood, and a distinct yellow shopping bag littered on the floor by his feet, along with that familiar bottle of lube Lance had been using not even a half hour ago. A tidal wave of nausea overcame him as he saw what was in Keith's hand—his brand new dildo. His brand new, Galran hybrid, fan-inspired dildo that was a supposed replica of Keith's dick.

For a hot second, Lance wondered how fast he might be able to run to the nearest airlock and eject himself into oblivion. But Keith's wide-eyed, gaping silence kept him rooted to the spot. So Lance set down the rack of scaultrite lenses, slowly, as if he were in the face of a loaded gun.

Keith shook the toy in his hand, blinking as if remembering he could speak. "The hell's this?"

And then Lance did a manic sprint up to him, wrenching the thing out of his grip and holding it back defensively. "A weapon, if you don't stop looking at me like that!"

Lance felt queasy. No, worse. He felt on the verge of hurling. And Keith's sincere face of surprise certainly wasn't helping. This was a new tier of embarrassment and, for Lance, a new low. For the life of him, even he couldn't whip out his trademark face of cheery composure.

"What are you doing with it?" Keith asked.

"What do you think I'm doing with it, genius?" Lance retorted.

"It's wet," Keith said, commenting the obvious as Lance cradled it to his chest like a newborn baby. "Is that what— Were you?"

"Yes! Shut up!"

"But—"

"Stop, stop," Lance stuck a hand out, waving it frantically and squeezing his eyes shut. "Just, please, don't ask any questions. I'm sorry you saw it, I just— I told you to stay out of my room!"

"I was trying to help," Keith said, drawing closer as Lance took a step back for comfort. "When did you even get that?"

"Just now!"

"Just now?" Keith's tone was dubious.

"Yes!" Lance practically wailed, hanging his head off his shoulders in surrender before elaborating. "I—I've been...experimenting with stuff lately, I just wanted something, you know, bigger and that's what they suggested."

"Oh," Keith was quiet a good measure. There was a lull afterwards before he said, "Why didn't you just ask me?"

Ask? Lance's head shot up so fast, he got a crick in the neck. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Keith held his hands together, his eyes lidded. "I'm not gonna act like that," he gestured to the dildo Lance held. "Isn't an obvious replica of Galran dick, when I have the real deal."

Was Lance even hearing this properly?

"But you're human," Lance said quickly, scrabbling to feign innocence. Despite it, he found himself fixated on Keith and the new, inviting purple mark on his cheek, crawling down the profile of his pale neck and underneath his collar. "Mostly human." Absently, he wondered what it would be like to kiss him there.

"So is that thing you're holding," Keith said. His brow furrowed. "At least, I think so."

"You don't know that!"

"Lance."

"Okay," Lance sighed, his underlip puckering out before he was relaying Keith's earlier question. And then, he was blushing again, the burn reaching all the way down to his toes. He lifted his chin slowly. "Are you suggesting that we..? Us?"

Needless to say, Lance was wholeheartedly fond of the idea, but the thought put him on edge, got his heart racing fast again. He felt like he was dreaming up the scenario, having the face of his fantasies genuinely offer up sex with him. But just because Lance wanted some dick didn't mean he'd have to want the man attached to it. Even if he did.

But Keith didn't have to know that.

"It's only if you want to," Keith said at last. "It'd just be like, um, one friend helping another."

Yes. Friend. The good ol' F word.

Lance found a new sort of comfort licking away his anxiety. Keith was, as Lance felt inside, embarrassed beyond belief. And because of that, it emboldened Lance like nothing else.

Lance moved closer. "You're right. It would be. And it's not like I was looking for your dick specifically. It just happened!"

"Right," Keith nodded. His lips curved into the slightest hint of a smile. "It's just...coincidence."

What a lovely word. What a wonderful coincidence. For once, Lance was glad he'd entertained his curiosities. Because, unlike in the past, it didn't end up with him being cuffed to a tree, or tied up and blindfolded. Although, Lance wasn't resilient on letting those things happen to him with Keith—in a much better context, of course.

Lance tilted his head, quirking an eyebrow. "You've never done this before, have you?"

"You really think I got any ass living out in the desert?"

"Not with that attitude."

Keith deadpanned, his mouth a tight line of bemusement before he was turning. "Have fun with your toy."

"No, wait, wait!" Lance seized his wrist. "It's just a joke! I'm joking!"

Keith stared at where Lance's grip held onto him.

"I want to," Lance blurted, his big mouth betraying him. "I do, I want to. I just - really _don't_ want to lose my virginity to a toy."

Keith's face was unchanging. "Okay."

Lance dropped Keith's wrist, visibly disappointed in his vacant reaction. He put his hands on his hips. "Wow, okay. Is there a reason why don't you sound surprised?"

Keith's mouth tilted into what, if Lance hadn't been sure before, was definitely a smirk now. "Lance," he spoke his name as if it was a word of apology. "Come on."

Lance went slack-jawed. "Lance what?"

"All those pick-up lines, the," Keith rolled his eyes. "The Loverboy routine. When girls so much as touched your shoulder, you seemed like you were short-circuiting. It was like you were...compensating for something."

Lance gave Keith a hard squint, torn between being offended and being annoyed. Even if it was the truth, Keith could have at least tried to play it off without having such a knowing look on his face. So Lance mustered the courage instead and stood up to Keith, closing the distance between them to mere inches.

"You tell me if I'm compensating when I have my way with you, okay?"

Keith went red as a beet. Lance watched him swallow visibly. He smiled to himself, quietly and completely in awe of his unrehearsed suave. He couldn't help but be that way around Keith anyway. His companionship made everything feel so natural.

Keith was leaning back again. He looked like he was debating something now; rolling around an idea inside his head. "Do you wanna set up some rules?"

"No," Lance murmured.

"Really? No rules whatsoever?"

"Well, when you say it like that, it makes me think I should have some."

"It'd be a smart idea," Keith said.

"Look, I just want regular sex!"

"Clearly not," Keith's gaze flickered to the dildo Lance was still holding fast to.

"I told you, they didn't have hu—wait!"

Keith's brows rose just slightly.

"Does your dick really look like this?" Lance asked, holding up the toy again, wiggling it. He bit down the urge to grin.

Keith huffed air through his nose, glancing off as he went a fair red again. "You're really making me do this." He sighed.

Then Keith began unbuckling his belt, and Lance's stomach went tight as a piano wire. This guy really didn't seem to understand modesty.

But before Lance was able to, as Keith mentioned earlier, short-circuit, he waved his hands in a panic and cried out. "No, no! I believe you, I believe you!"

Keith stopped, thumbs hooked under the waistband of his pants. He buckled his belt again. "If you're that nervous—"

"I'm not!" Lance said. "I'm sorry, it's just, I've never seen someone else naked, and I...I just wanna preserve the surprise."

"Surprise?"

"Yes. I want you to be dazzled."

It took a moment before Keith broke into a feeble smile, shaking his head. "Okay," he said. "Sure. Just give me the date for when."

"Tomorrow," Lance answered quickly. He smiled, too. He felt on top of the universe, making such plans. He felt defiant. "Everyone's gonna be elsewhere, anyway. We'd have some privacy. How's tomorrow for you?"

In fact, if Lance was able to make it to tomorrow in one piece, he might just be his own hero. Freeing himself to a feelings free arrangement with Keith, one that promised pleasure for the both of them—it was liberating. It was like shedding a new skin.

Keith's darkened eyes searched Lance's face before he gave his answer. "Tomorrow's perfect."

"Good," Lance nodded. "Then I have one rule," he paused, swallowing all his pride and meeting Keith eye to eye. "I don't want you to wear a condom."

Keith's gaze went round. To Lance's delight, there was still a vague pink tint to his face. He cleared his throat. "That's more of a request, really."

"Oh my gosh," Lance sighed in exasperation, kneeling to pick up the rack of scaultrite lenses he'd brought out. He held it out to Keith with a glare. "Tomorrow evening. Be here."

Keith had that thoughtful look on his face again, quiet. He drew closer, his fingers wrapping around the rack of lenses between them. "I'll be here." He gave a small nod and leaned in for a kiss.

Acting fast, Lance put a hand up and clapped it over Keith's mouth, just before their lips were able to meet. It was almost laughable how easy it was for the simple act alone to pick away at the scab over Lance's heart.

"Don't do that," Lance whispered, lowering his hand slowly, keeping a brave face over his wounded feelings. "I don't want anyone kissing me there unless they mean it. That's my one rule."

Keith complied with a step back. For Lance's comfort, he assumed. His brows were drawn together apologetically, sheepishly. "Right," he said, showcasing a small smile and raising a shoulder at the door. "Kolivan's probably waiting."

"I'll walk you out."

As they exited the bedroom and down the hall, Lance watched in silence as Keith's grip around the rack was white-knuckled. He opened his mouth to say something, but Keith was first to stop instead and turn to him.

"You don't think this will hurt you, right?" he asked.

Lance made a face, smirking. "Don't get so full of your—"

"That's not what I meant," Keith said tightly. His pinched face alleviated into something softer as he trained his attention back on Lance. "Do you even remember what happened the last time we saw each other?"

Lance blinked in succession, miffed. "On Kogos?" That name felt like a curse on his tongue.

"Yeah."

Lance barely remembered anything of that evening. Admittedly, he had done his best in the past few weeks to shove anything from the night to the back of his mind. It was hard to recall the gala, the memories fuzzy, not quite there.

"You left me on the balcony and then," Lance glanced away. "Everything after that was just a blip."

Keith was looking at him for a moment longer, his eyes lingering. "Try to remember," he said quietly and held the rack of lenses tight to his chest. "I'll see you." He turned on his heel quickly and left down the hall, out of sight.

When Keith was gone, Lance's posture slouched immediately. On one hand, there was a large part of himself eager for the coming day, but Keith's words of finality had yet to settle right with him. There was something ominous about it. A plea to remember the night of the ball.

 

***

 

_One month ago,_ Kogos Moon Gala.

 

Lance splashed his face with cold water in the palace restrooms. He swiped a towelette and patted his face dry, hoping the quick rinse was enough to conceal the fact that he'd been crying out on the balcony just minutes ago. He couldn't have helped it. That entire scene with Keith out there had been so incredibly disarming.

All those nights they'd spent, late up on their holophones, texting, video-chatting. The smirks they'd give each other, the way they'd laugh off their grueling days in battle, the rare moments Lance would make himself vulnerable, and Keith would write back: _I think you're really special, Lance._

And then to up and ditch him like that, without so much of an ask for a dance. Lance's entire chest felt sour. He should've been used to it by now. Rejection rarely ever hurt him these days, but that was only because he'd hardly expected anything from quick flirts.

It was different with Keith. Keith wasn't just his typical five-minute puppy crush. On the contrary, his comfort and affection had been constant and ever present. He hadn't even touched Lance. He hadn't needed to. His presence, here or distant, had affected Lance in such a way that he'd felt warm and secure always.

And Lance had been so certain of the possibility of them.

But right now, he just wanted to forget. He had to. It was the only way he'd heal.

So he fled the restroom and returned to the gala, where many flooded the floor. Amongst the crowd, he found Hunk, who looked to be having pleasant conversation with Allura. At least someone was happy tonight.

"Hey, Lance," Hunk smiled and overlooked the rest of the crowd with a squint. "Uh, hm, I think I saw Keith pass by awhile ago."

Lance still felt hot from unshed tears. He scoffed. "Why would I be looking for Keith?"

Hunk exchanged a silent glance with Allura, who quirked her brow as if to say, _Leave it be._

"Uh, I just," Hunk trailed off, looking at the glass in his hand before raising it. "Hey, have you tried this drink? It's called bellivii. It's great. You should try some."

Lance took the drink passed off to him with a wry smile. "Thanks." And took a sip.

"Be careful, though, it's pretty strong," Hunk started, gaping when Lance downed it even faster after his warning. "Or. Drink all of it, I guess. Life is short."

"S'good," Lance said, wiping his mouth of the redberry residue it left on his lips.

"Is everything alright, Lance?" Allura asked, leaning in with a face of concern.

"Everything will be," Lance answered and raised his emptied glass. "As soon as I get another one of these."

In short, Lance greedily downed enough bellivii to get himself more than tipsy within the varga. It settled well in his stomach, he thought, having grown warm and dizzy over the drinks provided. More importantly, it gave him the drive to enjoy what was left of his evening.

Lance held court of a number of intrigued aliens as he laid upon an elegant chaise lounge. They happily ate up his dramatic tales of many space adventures, of being a Paladin of the legendary Voltron. But then, the conversation started spiraling. Allura at one point even quietly implored him to dial his excitement down, as it was becoming less a fascination and more a scene.

Lance stirred a straw around in his glass. "And now, we're all vouching for peace," he clicked his tongue loudly, ignoring the _cut it out_ motion Hunk made beside the crowd. "Psh! Peace. Like, we—you guys've been at this for thousands of years. What makes peace now? The prince lights a li'l bonfire, an' now we're all hunky-dory with the Galra?"

Lotor was glaring daggers from where he stood beside Allura.

"What would you suggest?" one alien asked.

Lance set his glass down and looked up at the eyes on him. "Ever heard of _The Hunger Games_?"

Hunk intervened quickly. "Okay, that's enough story time, buddy!" He faked a noisy laugh, hoisting Lance away from the couch from up under his armpits.

"I'm joking!" Lance slurred, waving at his dear, beloved fans who blinked in confusion as he was dragged off. "He knows I'm joking! I—okay, it was a bad joke!"

Pidge fell in step beside Hunk as they stole Lance away from the crowd. "Gee, he's really zonked out of his head! How much did you let him drink?"

"Too much," Allura bit out as she caught up beside them. She glanced over her shoulder, where Lotor had taken Lance's spot to draw the crowd's attention away. "Hunk, I thought you were watching him."

"I didn't know he had to be watched!"

"I'm a big boy," Lance snapped and wiggled himself out of Hunk's grip, ambling forward. "I don't need to be—!" He bumped into something solid before staggering back against Hunk's chest.

Keith stood rigidly before them all, rubbing his forehead with a tightly furrowed brow. "Ow?"

A great wave of hurt surged after Lance at the sight of him. Just like that, even the defense of bellivii couldn't keep away the trouble of his own heart.

But it was hard to stay hurt now. It was hard to be fearful of anything on a full stomach. Especially one full of alien booze.

"If it isn't Keith," Lance flapped a hand.

"What was that back there?" Keith asked, looking up at Hunk for an explanation.

"He," Hunk gestured to Lance, who was squinting hard at Keith. "Had a little too much to drink."

Keith chuffed as if in understanding, and it threaded a fire-like anger throughout Lance. How could he do that? Yes, Lance had been too much. He was always too much. He felt like too much inside all the time.

So why hadn't he ever been enough?

"Pussy," Lance said. He scowled as much as his face would let him.

"What'd he say?" Pidge asked, her voice a near-squeak.

"You," Lance's finger was a dagger stabbing the air between them. His tongue felt thick as he recounted his messy thoughts. "Pussyfoot around your feelings."

"Oh," said Hunk.

Keith frowned, looking to Allura. "I think he's done for the night."

Allura's voice cracked with a word unsaid before Lance made a kitty claw of his hand, outstretched it to Keith, and fucking _purred._

"Oh, my god," Pidge whispered.

Keith's gaze was round, his cheeks blood hot as he stood with Lance's hand waving before him. With his loud purring.

Lance dropped his kitty claw of a hand suddenly. "I think I'm..." His eyelids drooped as he staggered forward.

Keith reached out quickly, his hands securing themselves tight on Lance's waist. He sagged like a bag of grain in Keith's arms.

"I think I should take him back to the ship," Keith said above him. The atmosphere of the gala darkened, and everyone's voices began to fade as Lance was maneuvered in Keith's arms, bridal-style.

"It's probably best," Allura's voice sank away from the clarity of his mind.

Lance's comprehension of what happened after was foggy, his entire being feeling positively dead-to-the-world as Keith carried him out of the ballroom on Kogos Moon.

As he slipped in and out of consciousness, Lance felt the absurd desire to wrap a blanket around himself and disappear from the universe. As big as he'd made himself in the galaxy, he now felt smaller than ever by his own doing. His feelings, to his dismay, were inescapable. And keeping Keith within and arm's width was a dangerous game to play.

They were onboard the Altean Castleship within no time. Keith carried him down the dark halls, through the bedroom quarters, to Lance's room. He was coming back to himself slowly as he was laid down on the bed.

"It's too hot in here," Lance mumbled, sitting up. His entire head felt hot and soupy as Keith took his blazer off for him.

"You need to sleep," Keith said quietly. He stacked one pillow against another behind Lance's head and gave them the slightest fluff.

Lance caught his wrist and looked up at him. "Stay?"

"Lance," Keith's face was unreadable. He set a hand over the one holding onto his wrist and sat next to him. "You... We're leading two different lives, okay? Even if we wanted to, there's no way we could make room for us. You said it yourself. War requires sacrifice."

Even in his drunken state, Lance could tell Keith wasn't talking about simply sharing a bunk.

"But we have now," Lance said and shook his head gently, admiring the way the shadows carved different types of light on Keith's face.

Mad as he was, he wanted nothing more than Keith, to be closer to him. They could put talks of war on the back burner. They could be happy.

"Keith," Lance whispered imploringly.

Keith turned his face to him. Impulsively, Lance leaned in and kissed him once on the mouth very clumsily and sat back, waiting. Even in the dark, he could see the heat pooling in Keith's face. But his expression was unchanging.

He shook his head. "Lance. Don't."

Lance's cheeks went scarlet. For months, they'd been toying with each other's feelings. And now that he'd put himself out there, Keith wasn't interested. "Why? Why can't we just be together a second?"

"I can't," Keith said. He closed his eyes. "The universe—"

"This isn't about the universe!" Lance blurted, squeezing the fabric of Keith's blazer. He didn't mean to sound so angry, but he was hurt and embarrassed. "Don't you dare. This is about you being too afraid to let people in. Well, I am too! What do want me to do? Wait for you to feel moved? Wait out the war?"

Keith said nothing, but Lance saw a muscle in his jaw jump. If he was thinking of anything, he was holding it back deeply. It made Lance's heart go tight with hurt.

"I'm not asking you to wait out the war," Keith said at last and rose off the mattress slowly. "I'm not asking for anything. But I can't do this tonight."

Lance gnawed his lip. He could feel his entire body flaring hot now as he slumped back against the pillows. This time, he let the tears slip down his cheeks, and he pulled the covers of the bed closer to himself. He hardly had the energy to try and save this moment now. Even if he did, it might be futile. Keith would keep his walls up regardless.

"If you leave now," Lance narrowed his eyes, refusing to meet Keith's face. "Don't come back. I won't be waiting."

The air was empty of a remark. And then, there was the hiss of his bedroom doors opening, bleeding light in from the hallway.

"Good night, Lance," Keith said finally.

And then he was gone, taking the rest of the light with him.

 

***

 

Lance woke in a sweat, sprawled and tangled in his sheets. It was a dream.

Except it hadn't been. That night had happened. He'd made a drunken fool of himself at the Kogos ball, he'd argued with Keith, he'd given his first kiss to Keith, and he'd been walked out on. All in the same night.

For a moment, he wallowed in the onslaught of shame the memory brought before unsticking himself from the mattress. Even if he wanted to spend the hour dwelling on it, he'd have to do it on his own time, and before Keith was able to arrive later in the afternoon.

_And after all those things I'd said to him._

How convenient it was for his subconscious to bring those buried memories to light the day after seeing Keith. What kind of sleeper cell hell was that?

Lance changed his sheets promptly before taking to the bathroom, hoping he might gain some peace in cleansing his body very, very liberally. After all, today was the day. Feelings or not. For a second, he could hardly believe he'd agreed to get involved in something so reckless. With Keith, at that.

"Ah, Lance, what have you gotten yourself into?" he murmured under his breath, blinking away the early grogginess. He stripped out of his clothes, leaving them in the laundry basket for later. Naked, he stepped into the shower and hit full blast, letting needles of warm water pound away at his sleep-addled muscles while he shaved and scrubbed up.

Afterwards, he dried off and polished his legs with a rosy body oil before wiggling into panties he was quite eager to finally show off. Now he just had to excuse himself for the rest of the day. Though he was sure everyone wouldn't mind, given how much they'd been excluding him lately.

With skin flushed and hair damp, Lance quickly tied his blue robe on and wandered out to the dining hall, putting on a dramatic show of fake coughs and little sneezes at the breakfast table.

"Whoa. You weren't kidding about being sick," Hunk said, and Lance gave a weak, feeble nod in return, sniffling dry air.

Shiro even bought the excuse and, with a half-hearted word of apology, mentioned how Lance's absence wouldn't make their day the same as they evacuated to their lions. Lance bit down a smile, glad his acting chops from playing hooky were still fresh as ever. For the remainder of the day, he occupied his bedroom like a quarantine zone, tidying up until his holophone chimed with a message from Keith. He'd just arrived in shuttle bay.

Lance felt his heart kick into overdrive, but he saved face, anxiously waiting until there was a knock at his door. "Come in," he said, hugging his arms to himself and standing by his bed awkwardly.

Keith stepped into the room promptly after the doors parted. "Hey." Rather than his Marmora suit and plated armor, he stood clad in his recognizable attire: the red jacket, the black tee and form-fitting pants. The familiarity of it warmed Lance.

"Hi," Lance said. He played with the ribbon tied around his robe, a momentary silence befalling them before he spoke again. "I wasn't expecting you so early."

"Oh," Keith said, a light blush coloring his face. "When you texted earlier that everyone was gone, I just kind of figured that was my cue."

Lance gave a small nod, feeling childish for lacking confidence now. But even his own misgivings couldn't stop Keith from crossing the room with such a relaxed gait. Lance quietly wondered when exactly he'd come to own that kind of coolness.

"I guess I was just a little more than eager to come," Keith continued, his mouth a curved, lovely smile that made Lance blush and curl his toes in his ridiculous slippers. "Are you sure you're not missing anything with the team?"

"They're attending a Grand Elder's birthday party on Turglas," Lance said. "I doubt I'm missing anything but a slice of cake."

"Really?"

"There's not too much commotion now that Lotor's running the empire. Just lots and lots of residual damage to clean up."

"Right," Keith gave a weakened laugh, his gaze set on the floor very briefly before meeting Lance's again. He looked very hesitant before asking. "Are you nervous?"

Lance felt his breath catch in his throat. But he smiled, relieved. "Very," he breathed out and nodded anyway. "But I want this! I do. You've seen that now, I guess." He finished with a glance at the drawers under his bunk, where his new dildo resided.

To think it was a simple toy for his own pleasure that'd snowballed them into this. While there was a part of him that was grateful for it, another half of Lance felt betrayed by his own interests for getting his feelings meddled with Keith again. Funny to think it was sex that was on Keith's _okay_ list, and not a potential romance. It stung to understand that truth, that he himself was so desperate for Keith to accept this.

"Anyways," Lance scrunched his nose playfully, his lips stretching into a broad smile. His eyes flickered to Keith's crotch. "Let's see it, huh?"

That earned another laugh from Keith, who shook his head with a grin he was definitely not in control of. "You're a dork," he said. Boldly, he stroked the back of his hand across Lance's cheek and tucked a wayward curl behind his ear.

Lance's stomach did that twirling thing. He could scarcely think, let alone breathe as Keith closed the distance between them.

"I know you only have one rule," Keith said, his gaze liquid. "Just...let me bend it a little."

Confused, Lance raised a brow. "I don't—"

He was cut short by the touch of Keith's hands on his robe, on his waist, rubbing down the smooth fabric and rendering Lance in a speechless kind of awe. As his fingers curled into the sash around Lance's middle, Keith traced his lips lightly over Lance's cheek. It felt longing.

"Can I take this off you?" he asked.

Lance swallowed hard before nodding, his voice just above a whisper. "Yes."

In one tug, Keith undid the sash, exposing Lance's bare chest. With his heart thundering in his ears, Lance slipped the robe off of his shoulders, letting the fabric pool at his ankles. He stubbornly kept his eyes up at Keith, his cheeks flushing as he refused to quail under the hungry way Keith's gaze raked over his mostly naked self.

"What's this?" Keith pointed to Lance's hips, his voice cracked.

With a silent "oh" of understanding, Lance turned around and faced the bed to show off his underwear—lacy blue cheeksters that hugged the curve of his butt very flatteringly. He felt vaguely proud to flaunt himself, despite feeling self-conscious about the lingerie.

"They're new," Lance said, glancing over his shoulder. "They're perfect for my flight suit."

And then Keith got in close behind him, his hands firmly grabbing Lance's hipbones, making his breath hitch. To keep his balance, Lance planted a knee on the mattress before himself, setting his hands on the wall with a smack.

"Keith—"

"They're nice," Keith said, a low and content noise rising from his throat. His fingers played with the gentle cloth of Lance's underwear, pulling them down and exposing the top of his ass to the room.

"Wait!" Lance brought his hips forward, the fabric of his cheeksters snapping at his ass in their release from Keith's hold. He crawled further into the bunk and rounded on all fours to face Keith with big eyes, his breath quick. "Ta-Take off your clothes."

"What?"

"I want to see you, too," Lance blinked rapidly, his skin having broken into a nervous sweat.

Before Lance was able to worry his apprehensiveness had killed the mood, Keith obliged and pulled his shirt over his head, exposing the hard-muscled plane of his chest and abdomen. Stars, maybe it had been more than a few months since Lance had last seen Keith's shirtless body, but he certainly hadn't remembered it looking like that.

Lance recalled once hearing of how the Blade of Marmora didn't play around with their training. It made sense. Unlike the Paladins, they didn't have the protective advantage of giant mech lions in battle. Their reliance lied within their combative skill, being the big and burly aliens they were. And for a guy Keith's size, Lance figured he had to go the extra mile to meet Kolivan's standards.

But Lance wanted to marvel at him. At his hard work and training, how it'd paid off in full. Bless the Blade. He didn't wanted this to be awkward at all, even if he was just being flattered for sex. He wanted all of Keith tonight.

As Keith undid the clasps of his belt, Lance asked, "Does it look like the toy?" he elaborated when Keith raised an eyebrow. "My dildo."

There was a hint of a smirk on Keith's reddened face, but he did not answer, unzipping his pants with a purposeful leisure. He let his belt clatter to the floor before he pulled himself out with a sigh, and Lance's mouth parted in automatic response, a squeak leaving him.

He was big. Even Lance's steamiest fantasies hadn't imagined such a picture. As far as being human went, Keith was definitely on the large side, especially now that he was so hard and heavy. There was a little pride blossoming in Lance's chest to know he was responsible for that.

Keith slid out of his pants with a knowing smile, removing his boots and crowding toward the bunk. He set a knee just beside Lance's, dipping the mattress with his weight and canting his hips toward him. "So what?" he asked, his voice gone all throaty and dark. "This look like your toy?" And it should be ridiculous—should _sound_ ridiculous, but all it did was make Lance whimper and grow thicker in his panties.

So he swallowed hard and gave into the temptation, inching a hand out and gripping Keith's cock, his own perking when hearing Keith suck in a tight breath.

But he did heed the question. And Keith was much, much better than the toy—hung and hot and musky. There were two foreign ridges on the underside of his cockhead, where he was thick and veiny down to the bulbous root of his dick.

"Huh," Lance said, looking up at Keith as he prodded the fatter base of his cock. "What's thi—"

Keith seized his wrist, brows tightly knit. His cheeks looked scarlet. "It's a—a knot."

Lance's mouth fell open. "People have those?"

"Galrans do," Keith released his hand, sighing.

"Have you always had that?" Lance asked.

Keith's gaze averted in brief thought before returning to him again. "Since puberty. I thought it was normal until, um," he lowered his voice, scratching his cheek with a forefinger. "Porn."

And Lance had to pinch his lips together to not grin. He took the weight of Keith's girth in his hand again, his other resting up on the sharp jut of his hipbone. He fluttered his lashes playfully as he squeezed him so slightly. "Mm. Can I?"

"Please."

With Keith's hips hanging before his face, Lance leaned forward and flicked his tongue out, laving it over the slit of Keith's cock, tasting him to memory. He gave it a chaste little kiss, a string of precome threading from his lips when he pulled back. Another lick at the underside, and Lance stopped as a hand gently tugged at his hair. Keith's quiet, winded laugh fell on his ears.

"You're teasing," Keith said.

"Just getting a taste of things," Lance replied, playing coy and mouthing at the crown of Keith's cock before wrapping his lips around him. He sucked him off with a wet _pop,_ eliciting a louder groan from Keith.

Lance willed himself to ignore the way his own cock swelled and wetted the fabric of his underwear. He wanted to be undeterred despite his inexperience, but this was Keith's first time, too. He wouldn't live it down if he didn't keep things pleasant for the both of them.

"I don't think I know what I'm doing," Lance confessed, looking up at Keith from under his lashes.

Keith ran his fingers through Lance's hair, soft and comforting. "Let's try something else, then. Lay back for me."

Complying, Lance crawled to the head of the bunk and turned, laying on his back. He settled his head back on the pillows to comfort himself, but his belly was tying itself in knots again, just like that night on the balcony. Keith followed him up, pushed his hands between Lance's raised knees and guided them apart.

The way Lance was positioned now made his erection incredibly obvious, tenting the flimsy material of his underwear as Keith grabbed his hips. Lance's heartbeat pounded aggressively in his ears, spellbound as he watched Keith pull his underwear down to expose his cock. Then further, down his skinny thighs, until Keith was tugging them off from being trapped around his ankles.

Lance could hardly breathe. His chest felt tighter than a wire, and he _burned_ from deep within his belly. He'd never been so exposed, so vulnerable in front of anyone like this before. But then, he knew if anyone should see him this way, it should be Keith. His cock felt heavy with wanting, a pearl of come welling up and dripping, slow and sticky, onto his flat-muscled belly.

Keith brought a hand out and gently stroked up the line of Lance's stomach, making him flinch at the contact. He couldn't control the way he quivered under his touch. Everything felt like foreign territory.

"You're really beautiful, Lance," Keith said, and Lance resisted the initial instinct to make a smart comment, just to feel less awkward under the attention.

"Lube's in the drawer," Lance whispered.

Keith removed his hand. His gaze lingered before he shifted and reached under the bed to find the bottle of lube in the drawer. When he brought it back up, he was fixing a curious look back on Lance again.

"You've practiced enough?" Keith asked, touching a finger to the bottle.

Lance nodded meekly, bringing his hands to his chest. "On my fingers."

"I meant on the toy."

Lance hadn't quite gotten the chance to finish on the toy. Yesterday had been the first and only time he'd used it before being interrupted. Even then, he hadn't been able to fit it to its full size.

"It'll fit," Lance groused, furrowing his brow to assert himself. "It will, okay?"

Keith raised a hand in mock defense. "I'm just checking."

After that, he popped the cap to the bottle in his hands, the echo of its snap making Lance flinch again. He watched as Keith pooled a generous amount of the oil onto his fingers, going tense when they're brought to the crease of his ass.

Keith pulled back shyly. "Sorry."

"No," Lance sighed, rubbing his naked chest to calm himself down. "Keep going."

Keith's hand returned. Lance let his knees fall wider on the bed, rolling his head against the pillow as his rim twitched in excitement against the cool press of Keith's finger massaging his hole. Keith teased his entrance gently, making Lance tingle, making his thighs flex and toes dig into the sheets. This was happening.

"Please," Lance huffed for breath. He felt sweaty from his palms, from the small of his back. He thought he might burst from desire.

At last, Keith pushed the very tip of his finger in, circling the joint inside as Lance let out a throaty sigh to the intrusion. It was different—so completely different from doing it himself. Little by little, he began to open around the blunt of Keith's finger, until he was able to take the final knuckle.

"Is this good?" Keith asked while he began to press a second finger to Lance's hole.

"It's perfect," Lance murmured, biting his lip and clenching around the girth of another finger sinking into him. His chest rose and fell quickly as Keith scissored his fingers out, earning a groan. _"Keith."_ And it _was_ Keith. These were Keith's fingers—spreading him, thrusting into his tight heat.

"What's that?" Keith asked. His mouth was a beseeching smirk as he curled closer over Lance.

Lance scowled up at him, his face hot. _Hotter._

"You can say my name," Keith said, his voice husky and proud. He held onto Lance's knee, his fingers intermittently thrusting, making Lance bite his lip in an attempt to quell his moaning. But it wouldn't fool Keith. "You holding out on me now?"

_Yes,_ Lance thought. Yes. Because he was pretty sure he just might explode. And then Keith was adding a third finger, making Lance cry out and pull his knees up to his chest in reflex, opening himself up further and—

Keith was gaping. His fingers stalled, eyes huge and drinking Lance in like a man who'd just found an oasis in the desert. When making and attempt to lower his legs again, Keith snatched his ankle. "How are you that flexible?"

"Yoga?"

Keith blinked, his blood hot in his cheeks as he let Lance set his knees regularly again. He nodded, visibly swallowing. "Good to know."

Had he not scene the coalition shows? Before Lance was so much as allowed to be smug about himself, he was panting again as Keith returned to fingering him open. He squirmed as Keith caressed a hand at the back of his ass, keeping him spread. Lance's head dizzied, his eyes hooding as he relented some whimpering noises and shivered all over in response to the way Keith stroked his body so lovingly.

How could he let his mind trick him this way? Even his body believed that this was Keith's way of expressing an unbidden desire to love and make love to him.

Lance moaned as Keith removed his fingers slowly. He barely had a chance to pay mind to his thoughts before he heard the telltale sound of Keith slicking his cock with oil.

Somehow, it made everything feel all too real. Lance grappled at the bedding, the rise and fall of his chest heavy as Keith groaned and fisted his cock between his spread legs. He pumped it steadily, milky pre sprinkling Lance's thighs. He looked so much bigger now. The vulgarity of the act made Lance's heart kick like a war drum.

Vaguely, he remembered something he'd once heard his mother say, that no decent boy would make love like this. _Maybe I'm not a decent boy,_ Lance thought smugly, because he was very much into what Keith was about to do to him.

And then Keith was lining his cock up to his hole, pushing into him slowly. Lance bit down a wail, bearing down the pain of the pressure burying itself between his hips. He wrapped his legs around the thick of Keith's waist, determined to take all of him.

"You feel so good," Keith whispered above, and Lance _whined_ as a hand slid itself under the small of his back and hitched his hips up higher.

As the fat of Keith's cock slid deeper, an alarming heat pooled in Lance's gut. His dick twitched, red and swollen as his entire body surrendered itself to the intrusion of Keith pulsing inside him, hot and thick and turning Lance's entire body to molten. Until Keith bottomed out with a grunt, just short of his knot.

Lance was shaking like a leaf, a tiny little cry emerging from his throat as he bowed his back and, without warning, came—white hot release splatting his belly. Completely. Uncalled for.

Lance was still shivering under Keith in wake of his first orgasm, red and sweaty as he glared up at him. "Don't say it."

"Wasn't gonna," Keith said hoarsely, but the loose smile on his face was telling enough. He took a corner of the duvet and wiped Lance's belly clean, ignoring the look he's shot about using perfectly fresh sheets to wipe away come.

They remained like that for awhile. Catching their breath, Keith grunting when Lance's hole fluttered around him, adjusting to the size of his girth. Lance felt stuffed, achey and, privately, blissful to have gotten what he'd so desired. Keith was looking at him through heavy lids, a feeble tremble in his arms, like he was concentrating on keeping still.

Lance swallowed thickly. "Come here," he reached out weakly with his right arm. "Want you to move."

Obliging, Keith curled his body over Lance's and braced his arms around his frame. The change in angle made both of them sigh out pleasantly.

"Now," Lance said.

Keith was still a moment longer before pulling his hips back and rolling back in, pushing a long and satisfied moan out of Lance. A pleasure like this had been long overdue. Underneath Keith was the best place to be, Lance drunkenly thought, his breath knocking out in little _aahs_ when his prostrate's brushed with every deliberate thrust. He could feel himself hardening again.

_"Lance,"_ Keith groaned. He was rubbing his cheek against Lance's chest like he was obsessed with it, eyes tightly lidded. "Mm, _fuck_."

Lance gasped tightly, clinging to Keith's back as he took him with loud, whimpering moans. He spread his legs wider, sliding his feet up Keith's flanks in eager invitation to pick up his pace.

Taking cue, Keith thrusted faster, clumsier, his breath coming in shallow puffs before he was laughing breathlessly by Lance's ear. "This better?"

And did it turn Lance on. He couldn't imagine what it might be, being intimate with someone who didn't having the ability to laugh or smile. Even when they weren't close, even when they'd once been just two boys butting heads in the common room, there'd always been space for sprightliness.

But now—oh, now they were much closer than ever, weren't they?

"Oh, god," Lance moaned. "Yes— _Keith!"_

Keith hummed his pleasure at those words.

Lance could feel his whole body like a live wire, wailing as every steady, implacable thrust made sparks of pleasure lick and curl in his gut. He didn't mind being loud—the Castle was theirs. Every roll of Keith's hips nudged his entire body on the mattress, forcing Lance to brace his hands on the wall as not to bump his head. But he took it proudly, with a sloppy smile on his face, keeping his legs tightly wrapped around Keith's middle, his mouth open—gasping.

"You're so responsive," Keith purred, palming at the side of Lance's ass.

The first touch of his tongue was so warm and light, Lance hardly felt it. Keith had his head lowered to Lance's collar, lips laying open kisses to the groove of it, until he began tonguing wetly at already pebbled nipples. Lance keened and shoved his fingers into Keith's long hair, arching as weak little mewls were pounded out of him. Unlike the rest of him, Keith's mouth moved slow and patient, murmuring unintelligible things and sucking fresh lovebites on Lance's chest.

It felt different—amazing different, like being treasured, being _worshipped._ Heat crawled from Lance's face to his chest, a whiny moan leaving him as Keith sat back on the haunches of his ankles again.

Keith was dappled in a sheen of sweat, his mouth a smirk as he pulled out, until his cockhead was caught on Lance's sopping rim. His face was flushed, and the way he looked at Lance now, with such a raw, naked desire, made Lance feel woozy in the best possible way.

He wanted to live in this moment forever.

Then Keith was rocking forward, pushing his cock deep in one fluid thrust. A long moan ripped out of Lance's throat, making him throw his head back against the pillow.

"Fuuuck," Lance cried out. "You're huge."

"Is that flattery from Lance?" Keith asked. He pulled Lance's legs up again, resting his heels over his shoulders. The gesture made Lance's core go tight, his cheeks pink as Keith fucked him open.

Lance moaned and stretched his hands up above him, arching his back and—

"Oh, fuck!" Keith gasped, his cock doing a violent twitch inside Lance's body.

Lance frowned, bringing his arms down. "What?"

"Suck in your belly."

Lance's glare was penetrating, his chest heaving with every pant for breath. "Suck in yours, d-dick!"

"That's not what I meant," Keith dropped his head. He pulled out slowly, just like before, and squeezed Lance's hip. "Just do it and watch."

Although skeptical, Lance gave his eyes the slightest roll and did so, hollowing out his belly with a breath. Keith pushed his cock into Lance again slowly, and under both their gazes, Lance's belly bulged slightly.

"That's— _eh!_ " Lance clapped a hand over his mouth, his own dick twitching out a pulse of come as Keith rolled his hips back, and the bulge disappeared. "Vulgar!"

Keith grinned. "You love it."

So what if he did? Lance opened his mouth to protest, but yelped, his spine bowing when Keith slid his cock into him again, making his belly distend with the inward stroke. Lance whined and let his head fall back again as Keith palmed his stomach.

He knew it wasn't completely abnormal, but it was the dirtiest thing he'd ever seen—experienced. So much for keeping the veil of composure. Lance felt positively squirrelly now, whining in desperation until Keith came back and folded himself over his body.

Warm and loose, he wrapped his legs back around Keith's waist, sliding his arms around his back and succumbing to breathless moans. Slow, soft kisses were pressed to the column of Lance's neck. Keith nuzzled his face there, inhaling the scent of sweat and sex they were permeating the room with. His calloused hands traveled down the length of Lance's thighs, giving meaningful squeezes and making Lance's heart do carnival-ride flips.

"You liked that, huh?" Keith asked.

Lance shuddered all over. He couldn't look at him, he was so overwhelmed. But the warm waft of Keith's breath on his skin, the weight of his body curled over Lance's own, sent his emotions spiraling, crashing back down to reality as guilt and ridicule prickled tears in the back of his throat. As a thousand thoughts sprang to his mind, one was most prominent: This was just sex.

"You're so beautiful," Keith was rocking the mattress.

This was just sex. He didn't care for Lance like that.

Lance dragged in a ragged breath. "Keith—"

Keith lapped at his throat, silencing him to a withered sob, red-faced. He seized each of Lance's wrists, eyes shut in bliss with his steady gyrations, every thrust earning a wet squelch as Lance clenched down and cried out.

He'd been so wrong about his ability to mind the fact of their relationship. At least, for what it meant on his own end. A part of him wanted to recoil now, pull from the grasps at his wrists, but Keith was so warm, so _safe._ He'd always had Lance like that when he was near. Making him feel powerful and capable and secured.

But his words were haunting.

_"You said it yourself," Keith had said. "War requires sacrifice."_

Far too many times had Lance opened his heart before. What should he have expected? That one day, someone might come and actually break it? All this was now was a self-inflicting pain he'd personally invited. And he couldn't bear it any longer. Screw the war.

Keith had his neck buried into Lance's shoulder, moaning in delight as his rocking hips earned anguished gasps from Lance.

"Keith. I don't—" Lance's voice sliced off into a moan, hips bouncing under the sheer force of Keith grinding into him. Tears swirled his vision as he sobbed out. "I don't - want - to sacrifice us!"

Keith drew in a ragged breath, the frantic energy of his body slowing, loosening as he raised his head. Panting harshly, he stopped his movements altogether and fixed the most nonplussed look on Lance, ever. "What did you say?"

Lance licked his lips, suddenly dry-mouthed under Keith's intense gaze. "I said I," he sighed, wincing as his nose pricked with the forewarning of tears. His entire chest felt like it was cracking open. "I don't wanna sacrifice us. Not for the war. For any of it."

Keith's expression was tight. His brows had drawn knit.

The barest pause between them now felt nauseatingly significant, reducing Lance to an irrepressible hiccup. He felt pinned between Keith's arms, like a rabbit in a trap. His heart was beating so wildly, it was hard to breathe. He just wanted to flee.

"I'm sorry," Lance whispered, a mask of a blush suffusing his face as tears tracked his cheeks. "I tried to let it go, but I can't. I can't pretend like you."

In a second, Keith was cupping Lance's face with a hand decisively. His thumb grazed the trail of wetness on Lance's cheek softly, and he smiled. _"Lance."_

"I didn't mean to—"

"To what?" Keith asked gently. He combed his fingers through Lance's sweat damp hair. "To fall in love with me?"

Lance quivered silently. His chest felt like ice; he had no clue what expression he was wearing. "You're my friend," he said at last, voice cracking. "How could I ask you for more than that? Please..."

Keith pressed his thumb over Lance's trembling lips, silencing him before removing it. He curled his fingers under the nape of Lance's neck, rubbing the baby hairs there with such an immense care, that it made a lump in Lance's throat. _It's over,_ his mind whispered. _There's still hope,_ his heart insisted.

Lance hooded his eyes and pleaded softly. "Say something."

Keith licked his lips. "I have a better idea." He said and smothered a kiss to Lance's mouth.

Kissing Keith was exactly what Lance had always anticipated it to be. Intensely warm and raw, tender on the inside, from all the incessant nibbling he did to it when in deep thought. After a bare moment of adjusting to the newness of it, Keith drew back up, and Lance looked at him with owlish eyes.

Lance took a deep breath, letting it out slow. "That...wasn't out of pity, was it?"

Keith tilted his head. "Do you really think that little of me?"

The question earned a small wince from Lance, his hole squeezing down on where Keith's cock stayed deep inside him. "Not at the moment."

"Lance," Keith said chidingly, provoking a weak laugh out of him. He cupped his jaw, guiding the fit of their mouths for another chaste kiss before murmuring. "I'm in love with you, okay?"

Lance relented an ugly hiccup to that, taken aback by how _good_ it felt to hear such an assuring phrase. But his suspicions lingered. "You left me that night on Kogos."

"I know," Keith whispered, and he petted Lance's hair. His gaze was so soft. "And I'm sorry. I thought it'd be easier if we weren't together because of the war, but I wasn't. It was worse, and you were all I thought about. Every day. Every hour. I was wrong. So when I saw what you were doing here, it seemed like a perfect opportunity..."

Lance was profoundly silent, his eyebrows lifting. "You love me?"

"Is that all you heard?" Keith was practically grinning. "Yes, I love you. And I'm...an idiot for literally fucking things up between us. I really don't know how to do this romance thing, but," he paused for breath. "If you're willing to give it a shot, so am I."

Lance could feel his entire face flaming, his body paralyzed with indecision on what to do with this information. He'd only dreamed of these words being said to him. He'd never rehearsed an actual response in return.

So, forcing back the thick miasma of terror and relief bubbling in his belly, Lance inhaled and curled forward with a grunt. He pulled at Keith's bare waist. "Okay," he looked up as the swell of Keith's knot twitched against his hole. "Knot me."

"What?"

"Knot me."

"No, I—I heard what you said," Keith huffed belligerently, shaking a little with the effort of holding himself up. "But what?"

Lance shrugged his shoulders heavily, and the movement jostled Keith a little closer, a soft noise leaving him. "I dunno. I'm in love with you, too, okay? I've been in love with you, and I want to feel you," he wrinkled his noise very briefly, smiling soft and strained. "All of you."

"You're nuts," Keith said.

Lance nodded. "I know."

Keith turned his head and shook it, biting down on a smile. He bent forward and kissed Lance's cheek. "So...you really want to?"

"Kinda. Yes. A lot," Lance grinned, crossed between cheeky and embarrassed. He rocked back on Keith in a shivering motion, relenting a _hmm_ of contentment. "You feel really good."

"So do you," Keith kissed him again on the corner of the mouth. "Now, lay down for me."

Lance relaxed against the pillows once again, his heart thundering in the cage of his chest as Keith sat up slowly, shifting inside of him. Keith was still hard; he hadn't even come yet. Not like Lance, who was nearly on the cusp of his second orgasm. Needless to say, it was worrying what that might entail, but Lance refused his apprehension any attention now.

Because in this moment, he wanted to be filled with Keith, enveloped by him. He was all Lance wanted.

In one swift motion, Keith was on his knees suddenly. He hitched Lance's hips up into the air with a grunt, leaving the upper half of Lance's body flush to the bed as he rolled back and forth. Every thrust punched a weak moan out of Lance, making his own swollen erection bounce ridiculously between them as they built up to the rhythm that had them both panting again.

Lance figured he must have looked every bit the picture of submissive, but he didn't care. He'd be as loud as he wanted, as loud as Keith wanted, just to express everything they'd bitten back the past months of their back and forth pining.

Keith made a sound of appreciation deep within his throat, his gyrations ebbing into slower, fluid strokes as he went down on Lance again. He took Lance's wrists like before, pinning them beside his head and guiding their mouths together.

The kiss was needier this time—hotter, open, and slick. Lance felt like melting. He loved how much Keith wanted him.

"I want it," Lance slurred between kisses, his voice thick as Keith ground into him. "Keith, please!"

"Insatiable," Keith murmured, breathing heavy. He traced his lips to Lance's jaw, nipping the skin.

Lance's legs were trembling as Keith kissed each of his palms, slow and sweet, before returning to his lips. He still carried the tang of salt and sweat, a day's worth of work and training. His hands returned to Lance's hips, fingers gripping tight and nails digging crests into his skin as his knot breached Lance's entrance.

Lance sucked in a hiccuping breath as he opened up around the swell of it, his internal muscles tightening. Slow, steady, implacable. Keith went tense and still, in that way he did when on the cusp of battle. His chest heaved sweatily for breath, his mouth a tight _O_. He moaned out as his orgasm hit. Deep-seated—it seemed to draw from the very center of his body, hot and unending as he pumped Lance full of come before.

Keith folded over and bit Lance. Hard, on the neck, so the sting would be distracting enough from where Lance was being stuffed. And Lance writhed beneath him, trembling as he unselfconsciously announced his cresting orgasm.

"I'm gonna, oh— _oh, god, Keith—!"_

Lance's head swam at the sensation of being filled, his mind euphoric and body distantly achey as his orgasm slammed into him, hard enough to knock his breath out. Keith rocked him through it, his hips moving in small, shivering circles until he was collapsing bonelessly over Lance. He mouthed a smile at Lance's bare shoulder, his praises disguised in soft, panting breaths.

_God, I love you,_ Lance thought to himself, coming back to his senses at the pace of snowmelt as his curled toes twitched anew with feeling. He stared at the ceiling when his eyes peeked open, open-mouthed, tongue dry.

Keith was smushed up against his body, his belly still heaving up and down for breath. "Sorry I bit you," he said, his voice rough and raw. "Are you okay?"

Lance nodded weakly, smiling as Keith eased himself up on his elbows and brushed their lips together. "I'm fine. I liked it, I—" _Kiss._ "You were really gentle with me."

"You deserve gentle," Keith lidded his eyes, nosing Lance's cheek with a small grin.

At the slightest shift he made, Lance groaned. He looked down, just to see the mess they'd made, and gawked at the unsightly plumpness his belly held from being filled. Being _knotted._

"Holy cow!" Lance squeaked, his voice hoarse from all his senseless wailing.

Keith followed his gaze with a questionable noise, his own face mirroring Lance's surprise before he curiously poked the swell of Lance's belly with a thumb.

Lance spanked his hand away. "Don't touch it!"

"It's cute."

"It _looks_ like I pigged out at Applebee's."

"Yeah," Keith furrowed a brow. "How often do you even hit the training deck? Or eat protein, for that matter?"

"Often enough!" Lance pouted. "Do you see these gun toting arms? Your dick is just ridiculous."

Keith humored him with a scoff and ducked his head, giving Lance another slow, syrupy kiss and murmuring slyly. "Deal with it."

Rather than fire back, Lance met Keith halfway for his mouth. Punch-drunk and in love, he kissed Keith like it was going out of style. He didn't care. He was his. This moment was theirs. And they were two saps in love.

Take that, Universe.

There was nothing braver than trying to love and be loved.

For the while they're stuck together, they kissed even as their lips grew weary. Lance happily lost himself to the welcoming heat of Keith's tongue, the way he's licked into him so hungrily. It made Lance wonder just how much torture Keith had put himself through, too, just awaiting the day they could embrace each other with such unabashed affection.

Somewhere amidst groping each other's bodies greedily, they'd found their way on their sides until, eventually, Keith pulled back. His lips were positively reddened from making out, eyes intent on Lance's face, blissful. "You're so pretty." He cupped Lance's cheek.

Lance turned into the contact like a cat, humming and wrinkling his nose. "Mmm, he really is in love with me."

Keith closed his eyes and laughed, breathy and wild. Lance couldn't recall seeing him look so unguarded, ever. Sex certainly had broken something tight and careful out of him, like a tidal wave of worry and exhaustion had been swept away to make some room for genuine comfort. It made Lance happy.

_I did that. I do that to him._

"My quads are killing me," Keith said, wincing.

Lance flashed his kittenish smile. "Good workout?"

Keith hummed in agreement and rubbed the small of Lance's back. He shut his eyes, his brows pinching in slight hesitance. "We're...boyfriends now, right?"

"Yeah," Lance smiled wide, giggled and nosed Keith's throat. "Just try and get rid of me."

With some reluctance, Keith withdrew his softened cock from Lance's body—the soft, wet sound of pulling out cacophonous in the otherwise quiet room. A tiny, breathy whine escaped Lance at the feeling of warm slick rolling down his thighs, the residual ache of pull-out making his ass throb. Keith's hand rubbed over his hip and back, soothing over the bruises he'd left there.

"I think I'll stay here forever," Lance sighed, feigning a tearful sniff and turning on his back. as Keith wormed his way down between his thighs again. "Hey?"

On his belly, Keith peppered soft kisses to Lance's inner thighs, raising them with gentle strokes of his hand. "I'm just gonna clean you up a little." He whispered. There was a wicked edge to his smile.

Lance felt his core trembling again, his ankles twitching up into the air as Keith's gentle tongue dragged viciously closer to the crease of his ass.

He very much liked taking chances.

 

***

 

Lance ended up spending the rest of the next day with a bag of frozen space peas tucked under his butt. He hadn't dared to leave the bed this morning, given his first attempt sent his legs buckling underneath him like a newborn calf. Keith had laughed it off, telling him to rest up with a kiss goodbye.

A kiss goodbye! That's where they were now.

Lance, however, stayed rooted to his bed. For his sake, Keith helped with cleanup, given the chance that anyone else would barge in and realize they'd been going at it like bunnies all night.

_Sexy bunnies,_ Lance thought stupidly, his smirk big and Cheshire-like as he slid pink spacers betweens his freshly painted toenails.

When Hunk walked into his room, he brought a tray of hot soup, all chipper and completely oblivious. "You're looking much better."

"Oh, yeah," Lance pasted on a big, innocent smile as he screwed the cap back on his bottle of polish. "I'm definitely feeling better."

"Got some soup for ya," Hunk said, easing the tray onto the end of his bed. He leaned forward, cupping a hand by his mouth and adding. "And a slice of cake, too. But that's only after you finish your soup."

"You're the best, Hunk!" Lance grinned, wiggling up to his tray with a wince.

Hunk's gaze flickered to the bag of peas underneath his rear, his mouth slanting as he pointed. "Uh, what's with the..?"

"Oh! I, uh, slipped," Lance said, his mind frantic. "In the shower."

Hunk was solemnly quiet, pondering a heartbeat before pursing his lips. "Ouch."

"Yes. Big ouchy."

Very, very big.

"Well, I'll leave you to it, then," Hunk said and waved as he left the room. "Call me if you need me!"

Lance smiled to himself, gratefully spooning some warm soup into his mouth as his mind wandered back to Keith. He supposed he should give him a call. After all, they were together now. Keith shouldn't mind him calling. Not after how unbelievably fantastic fucking was last night. Not after he'd spent so much time worshipping Lance's body with his tongue and mouth, calling him all kinds of sweet things. Beautiful, pretty, perfect.

But this had to be an important call, obviously. Keith only had so much free time in his day, and Lance had to be frugal with his time.

Then again, the universe simply had to understand how important it was to tell one's boyfriend how nice he looked naked.

On impulse, Lance was picking up his holophone, excitement bubbling in him like the finest champagne as he tapped Keith's name in his contact list. He waited as the dialing tune came on. _Click._

"Hello?"

Lance bit his lip, clenching his tee with a fist and fidgeting. "Hi," he said, startled by the shyness of his own voice. "Um, I'm just calling to see how you are!"

"I'm fine," Keith said. "Are you alright?"

"I'm okay. Just wondered how you were," Lance huddled his knees closer. He tousled his hair for no one, fluttering his lashes as he adopted a deeper, more sultry tone of voice. "I just had, um, a very graphic sex flashback."

"Uh—"

"You do have a genuinely gorgeous ass, you know," Lance purred, leaning a cheek in his hand. "Maybe you could come over tonight, and we could do it again."

After a pause, Keith spoke again. "Thank you, Lance. I'm actually in a meeting with the Turglas Ambassador right now, his secretary, and the rest of Blade of Marmora," his voice cracked over the line. "And you're on speakerphone."

Lance felt his heart give all the way to his ass as someone coughed in the background. "Oh."

"Hello, Blue Paladin," Kolivan's voice, unamused as ever.

"He-Hello, Kolivan," Lance said.

"I'm gonna have to call you when I'm finished," Keith said, sounding as awkward as Lance felt.

"Right! Yeah! I have plenty of busy Paladin work to do anyway," Lance gave a deflated laugh, his cheek blooming with pink. "I'll just, uh, talk to you later!"

"Mhm. Love you," Keith said, just before the call ended.

Lance returned to his bowl of soup, pinching his lips together to suppress a smile betwixt embarrassment and giddiness. Was it even possible to feel _more_ for someone? Granted, no one said being so in love stopped you from being an absolute ditz.

Even if that was the way Keith loved him. Just as he was.

**Author's Note:**

> yes, that title is a little grease inspired. anyways, i wrote this because i just need keith to cherish lance, okay? and i apparently can't write porn without throwing in a big dose of feelings. as much as i wanna say otherwise, i spent many nights grueling over it and trying to decide if it was good or not. that aside, i am pretty happy about it. i hope you are too!
> 
> PLEASE, feel free to leave a comment and leave kudos! ♥️ check out my twit. let's talk about klance together.
> 
> [@peachgrdn](https://mobile.twitter.com/peachgrdn) / tumblr : [peachgrdn](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/peachgrdn)


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